Until The Dream
by Shimegami
Summary: In a world where fiction is reality... The thief and detective have always been against each other, but what happens when history starts to repeat itself a little too well? Shinichi is about to find out. Shounen ai/Yaoi
1. Chapter 1

So, time for a part of a fic universe you guys have never ever seen, woo! It's...sort of a prologue, really. I guess. Yeah.

Oh, and if you've never read "The Hollow Needle" in the Arsene Lupin series, you'll be a bit, ahhh, confused. But just go with it.

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All in all, Arsene Lupin thought, living a new life was not all it was cracked up to be.

Sure, he was given a new chance at life to make up for the mistake he'd made years past with that person. Sure, living a hundred years in the future was rather "cool", and all the new inventions fascinated him.

But when you couldn't actually interact with said things, and was stuck merely watching through his current incarnations eyes, it got rather dull after a while.

However, this new life of his was interesting enough even if it really wasn't his own. He'd never met a Japanese person all during his first life, even with his fame, and now to actually be born in the modern culture was something of what they called "culture shock". To read graceful patterns as words instead of pictures, to eat food entirely different from what he was used to, to have a social mentality the exact opposite of French - was all so different, and rather fun.

And his incarnation even got to be his modern-day counterpart. All in all, it was a nice reincarnation.

If only it was solving the problem he'd prayed to be reincarnated _for_.

All these years in this new life (his incarnation was almost eighteen now), and not one glimpse of the person he was searching for, the one he had to apologize to. The one he'd hated and cursed when they both were still alive, then slowly had come to love, but only after the other was out of his life. The one he'd spent fifty years searching for before his body had given in and died.

Sherlock Holmes. A detective. No, not just any detective..._the_ detective. The only detective in his mind.

before that one unspeakable event that had changed everything, he would have rather died than even consider the detective close to him. He would have bit his tongue and choked on it before he apologized. He had hated Holmes with every fiber in his body, a burning, thrumming passion that coursed up even when he had just heard his name.

Now...after that event, things were much different. He'd first started searching out of revenge, to exact the suffernig of his poor Raymonde out on the one he considered responsible for her death. But as the years passed and every search for the missing sleuth was fruitless, his hatred began to wane, the despair of his beloved's death slowly fading away into memories. And as the years went by and he thought on the detective as he searched, he realised that the "burning passion" was no longer tainted by hatred, but it still remained. And then he remembered an offer, that had been expressed with pure, hopeful blue eyes and the shy hope that youth possessed. An offer to be friends, to be equals. And perhaps more.

He'd laughed in Sherlock's face then.

He'd been far too proud then - full of the arrogance brought by nationality and youth. He couldn't have imagined going to bed with an Englishman, and a detective at that. And he'd smirked at the raw hurt on the other's face when he'd rejected him, hurt that had faded away into the layers the man kept around him. But the hurt never faded from those brilliant blue eyes, that had seemed to dull a little more each time they met.

He had never found out what had happened to Sherlock until this new life.

Death by cocaine overdose. Not even five years after the Hollow Needle and Raymonde's death. To think he'd spent his last forty-five years in his own body searching for a dead man. How ironic.

In retrospect, everything was his own fault, really. If he'd only accepted the offer, accepted that strange fluttery feeling he'd gotten the first few times they'd clashed, of equal and brillaint minds going against each other, each carefully trying out the role they'd chosen for their new adult lives. If only he'd accepted the fact that in those first few moments, he'd fallen completely and utterly in love with the detective, then all these unhappy events cuold ahve been avoided, and they could have been together even now.

He couldn't change the past.

However, he could change the future.

He'd find Sherlock again and repent for his past mistakes, and praying against everything that the detective would reiterate his offer, which Lupin would definately accept this time around. Especially with such a new, healthy young body, he was bound and determined to quite thoroughly enjoy Sherlock's company this time around. His incarnation might have some objections - people nowadays had funny ideas about waiting for sex - but he'd come around. Especially since he'd apparently inherited quite a bit of Lupin's innate hedonism and sensuality, and seemed to enjoy sessions with his own hand well enough.

before the fun, however, he needed to find Sherlock and apologize to him first. And this frustrated Lupin the most.

He'd spent fifty bloody years searching for the man last tmie, how was he supposed to find him now when he didn't even know where and how he'd been reincarnated?

He would be in the same country - fate wasn't that cruel - but Japan seemed to be the country determined to stack millions of people in a space barely the size of France's coast. It was the proverbial needle in a haystack dilemma. And Lupin had no choice but to go through each straw one by one.

When his incarnation's seventeenth birthday came and passed, Lupin was extremely frustrated. Here he was trying to redeem his very soul, and he'd made more progress when his incarnation had been but a child. At least he still had his outlet of thievery, though the "return" bit seemed a bit silly to him. If you were going to be a thief, be one fully and not just halfway. But he definately appreciated the showmanship. Slieght-of-hand was a wonderful invention, and he loved it just as much as his incarnation did. He continued in this manner for some time, growing more and more frustrated each passing month as no leads showed up. Perhaps fate really was cruel, and Sherlock had been ironically reborn in France or some sort. Lupin and Fate were going to have a little "talk" once he died again. He also felt hopeless, and despaired of ever setting things right with Sherlock. He prayed for anything, any sort of sign at all.

And then one routine heist night, he'd landed on a roof and a child had turned to stare at him with Sherlock's deeply brilliant blue eyes.

He'd found him.

But why was he so _small_!?

At first he'd thought it a joke of Fate's - she'd give him the chance to make up to Sherlock, but forever doomed to be seperated by age. Then he'd gotten to know the child, and knew.

This wasn't a child. This was a full-grown adult hiding in a child's body. Something had happened to Sherlock's incarnation, to turn him into a little boy, he was certain of it. Never mind it seemed out of a fairy tale, it was the only acceptable truth.

But who was he? The boy's name he knew was false - no one would hide out as a child and keep their name. But as to who he was before...it was a blank. He needed to find out more.

But suddenly one day the boy disappeared.

Lupin was frantic. He'd found his Sherlock, he couldn't possibly lose track of him now, not when he was so close! For abuot a month or two, he'd despaired of ever finding the detective again. his depression was enough to affect his incarnation, who became listless and slightly agitated in the face of feelings that had no cause. Lupin wondered if it was worth it to try - if he should just receed and sleep away the rest of this life and hope the next gave him a better chance to try again.

And then, on another heist, as his incarnation danced over rooftops, they'd been cornered by someone. Someone who eerily resembled the boy, down to the same bright eyes and fierce intelligence, but only now the same age as his incarnation.

And Kudou Shinichi introduced himself to the Kaitou Kid.

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	2. Chapter 2

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Shinichi let his fingers trail down the cover of one worn book, before dismissing it an continuing his search. Shelves lined with many antique books spread before him, but his goal was specific - to see if there were any old books on Sherlock Holmes that had eluded his father's immense reach. If there was one thing Shinichi had inherited from his father, it was his love of books, and he was always searching for a new addition to the Kudo library, just like his father.

And if the books were about Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective to ever live, then that was even better.

The famed detective had lived so long ago, and yet he'd been able to solve cases that would have baffled the police today, even with all the modern advancements. Certainly a worthy goal to aspire to - if Shinichi could be anyone, he'd choose Holmes.

--_you already are_--

And if any of the books would help him in his goal to catch Kaitou Kid, all the better.

Shinichi sighed. It looked like nothing - figuratively - new was here, so he'd just have to go home for now. But just as he was turning to dismiss the books, a gold-gilded title caught his eye, and he headed for the glint of those letters, halfway hidden in the very back corner of the shelves.

"Diary...?" He murmured, pulling the thin volume from its resting place. It was indeed a journal, of probably a little over a century ago. He flipped the book open idly - scrawling script in Roman letters filled each page.

Shinichi frowned slightly - it wasn't English. "_Je l'aime_", one of the sentences read.

--_that's **his** handwriting_--

French, then. Shinichi's French wasn't all that good - he'd taken the course in high school for it, due to already being fluent in English - but with his dictionary at home, he should be able to read it.

The question was - whose journal was this? How had it come to be in this little shop, being sold for a few bare yen? He flipped back to the front, scanning the first page's inscription.

And felt his mouth go dry when he saw the words "_Propriété d'Arsène Lupin_" scrawled in the same writing.

That wasn't possible - the famous thief's journal ending up here, in Japan? There was no way - it had to be a fake, a fanciful tale of someone's idea of the thief's life.

Still...it might be a good read, a story pulled from the famous thief who had been Holmes' rival for years...

--_and I never did know what happened by then I had already_--

Snapping the book closed, Shinichi headed for the checkout. He would start trying to decipher the book tonight, for he had a Kid heist to attend in a few hours.

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	3. Chapter 3

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_Je ne peux pas le trouver._

Aux fins de mes capacités je cherchais, et je ne peux pas trouver encore cet homme. L'un qui a tué mon amour, mon Raymonde. Oh ma belle, ardente Raymonde...ta flamme était trop lumineuse, et elle s'est éteint trop facilement. Mais ce n'était pas une faute de toi, ma cherie; tu n'aurais pu jamais faire mal. La responsabilité reste avec l'homme qui n'est pas digne de regarder à toi. Il s'est éteint ta flamme, et c'est à cause de cette raison que le monde est un endroit plus foncé. Je ne me reposerai pas jusqu'à ce que je le trouve, ce meurtrier, ce fléau de mon existence...

Cet homme qui s'appelle Sherlock Holmes...

---

Shinichi shut the journal with a sigh, bringing a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. Translating the century-old French had been difficult, but it was slowly getting easier each page he successfully translated. He was about five pages in, and so far all the journal had been was a rant-fest about how much the man hated Sherlock Holmes for killing his lover Raymonde. While certainly accurate, it was quite a dull read. Shinichi did not really care about the ravings of a thief - but the fact that Lupin was actively searching for Holmes promised for a good story in the works, as long as Shinichi kept at it.

Placing the journal on his nightstand, he yawned. Well, enough reading for tonight. He needed to sleep - Kid's heist had worn him out more than he thought.

Flipping the lamp off, he curled up in bed and drifted off to sleep.

---

_The cold was the first thing he was aware of. The cold of mud and mist clinging to his clothes, the cold of terror as it gripped his frame. He had been huddled in this cliff for far too long, anxiously awaiting the rain of boulders to stop from above. Moriarty's right hand man was determined to see him dead, and dead he would be if this kept up. He could not stay like this, awaiting death under a tiny ledge..._

The falls roared in his ears, the white spray almost obscenely beautiful for this situation.

He always did like white...

Shaking his head, Sherlock sighed as he tried to make himself smaller, avoiding the boulders that the good Colonel was raining down all around him. He didn't have time to think about past losses.

Even so, he couldn't help wondering what that blasted thief would think of this situation...

---

Shinichi awoke with a gasp. For a moment, he was unbalanced and dizzy - unable to tell where he was, in his bed or tucked away in that terrible little hole in the side of the Reisenbach Falls, awaiting death from above.

Wait, Reisenbach Falls?

Shaking his head, Shinichi did establish that he was at home, safe in bed, and in no way reliving Sherlock's infamous near-death experience by Moriarty and his right-hand man. A dream, nothing more, most likely caused by reading Lupin's fake journal. He really did have Holmes on the brain.

But it had felt so real...

--_because it was_--

Shaking his head again, Shinichi turned and looked at his clock. Damn, it was already time to get up, and yet it felt like he hadn't slept a minute. Well, coffee would fix that.

Getting out of bed, he went to start his day, leaving the journal lying on his nightstand.

---

Another day, another night. Shinichi's life had long since fallen into a pattern of "Sleep, School, Case", with little time between each. He'd been content with this, though, and so long as the "case" part including chasing Kid whenever he appeared, there was nothing else he could ask for.

Except, lately, more sleep.

His dreams had taken a decidedly odd turn recently, ever since that first one the night he'd gotten Lupin's "journal". Nowadays, it seemed, every dream was some scene from the detective's life, with Shinichi in the leading role. They were all so vivid, so real, that every time Shinichi woke up, it took him a moment to remember who, where, and when he was - to remember that he was Kudou Shinichi, college student and Japanese detective, and not Sherlock Holmes.

--_are you sure you're not both_--

It had been taking a toll on Shinichi's energy, too, for he never felt like he slept recently. He woke up more tired than when he'd fallen asleep, and caffeine was the only thing that kept him going some days.

And it was all that damn journal's fault.

Every time he read a little more of it, it seemed to put more weird dreams in his head, like fitting in pieces of a puzzle. And, sometimes, they were scenes that the author of the journal described themselves - in vivid detail, exactly as the journal depicted it.

It was getting easier to read the journal, too - he rarely had to pick up his French dictionary anymore, only when he reached an uncommon word. Otherwise, the words seemed to flow seamlessly in his mind, translating effortlessly. He must have learned more in French class than he thought.

--_easier to remember when you have two sets of memories after all_--

Well, now was not the time to ponder it. He had gotten out of school, and a Kid heist was in a few hours. He had to get ready.

He finished up his homework and stood, ready to go out for another round of thief-chasing. Another round of being insulted and left behind. Well, tonight Shinichi would capture that smug thief and show him who was the better. Kid would not belittle another detective, not while Shinichi lived.

--_he would only take us and our offer seriously for once we would not have to do this_--

Giving the journal one last glare, Shinichi turned and headed out.

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	4. Chapter 4

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_Comment peut-il se cacher si efficacement?_

J'ai fouillé toute l'Angleterre, mais il ne s'est point montré. Le plus tôt il se montrera, le plus tôt je pourrai me faire justice. En parlant de justice, j'ai une chose à lui demander. Il sélectionne et choisit ses affaires, ignorant ceux qu'il ne juge pas "digne", et laisse courir des criminels avec qui il s'entend. Où est la justice là dedans? Si une personne décide de servir la loi, elle devrait exécuter la loi à la lettre, et non pas quand l'envie leur prend.

Pour être honnête, je serai très intéressé par sa réponse...

Bon, quand je l'aurai trouvé, il me faudra lui poser la question...

---

_"The answer would be...no, my not-so-dear detective."_

"Wait, Lupin--!"

---

Another night, another dream, it seemed. Shinichi stared at the ceiling of his room, watching the moonlight play with the shadows of leaves and branches.

It hadn't been very coherent this night, just snatches of dialogue that Shinichi could barely remember, and just a general feeling of...loss. Yes, that was the word. Whatever happened in this dream-memory thing hadn't been very kind, and had left himself-as-Sherlock just standing there, feeling like an idiot with his heart thrown back into his hands.

What had happened...? Why had he dreamed something like that?

Closing his eyes with a sigh, Shinichi rolled onto his side and pulled the covers over his head. Maybe if he curled up enough, the lonely feeling would go away and he would sleep without dreams.

At least until tomorrow night.

---

Shinichi stifled a yawn as he leaned against the brick wall of the apartment building's stairwell. Waiting for Kid to fly his sorry ass over to the escape route Shinichi had deducted he would use - this building - was the only boring part of heists. The thief did enjoy taunting his audience, and so sometimes he was later than Shinichi had predicted and the detective was left to twiddle his thumbs until Kid finally deigned to show himself.

He should have brought a book to read, but the only one he hadn't finished lately was "Lupin's" journal, and Shinichi had mixed feelings on that. On one hand, it was quite masterfully written, and Shinichi was beginning to think less and less that it was imitation. The detail was just too great, the writing too authentic.

On the other hand, it was giving him the strange dreams and the heebie jeebies all in one go, and he wasn't quite sure he liked that.

He wondered if there was some curse on the book to make the reader dream they really were Sherlock Holmes...

--_none other than your own soul young one_--

...but then there was slight sound of a heel scraping concrete and a cape folding in the wind, and he had more important things to worry about. Kid had finally appeared, turning around giving Shinichi a grin.

"Well well, if it isn't my favorite detective. And how are you this evening, Kudo-san? Are you sure you should be out here without a coat? It's quite chilly, and I can't imagine that uniform of yours being very warm."

Shinichi snorted. "Isn't it better for you if I'm not? After all, I'm not able to chase you if I'm sick in bed."

"Alas, but then I would miss your tender affections. And I would never wish you ill, my dear detective, for then my heists would be without their most interesting participant, and where would I be?"

"Shaving minutes off your time records, I'm sure." Shinichi stated dryly, taking a few steps forward. No way was he letting the thief out of lunging distance. "After all, without anyone to laugh at and make a fool out of, you would not be so distracted, surely."

Okay, so maybe that dry voice was a little bitter as well, but Shinichi was tired of being played for an idiot by the quicksilver thief. Even if he was the only one able to keep up with the thief, he still felt like he was being laughed at every time the thief slipped from his fingers.

Especially when the thief would turn with a grin and call him on that to his face...

Kid blinked. "I'm sorry, detective? Indeed, you are an integral part of my fun, but not to play to fool. The bumbling police inspector, the Holmes cosplayer, maybe them, but never you Kudo-san. I would hardly call my best critic a fool. Are you sure you haven't already caught a cold? You are not looking your best..."

Shinichi stumbled a bit then, going a bit pale. That's right, Kid never did go out of his way to make Shinichi feel like an idiot. He was the only detective Kid treated with respect, in fact, and Kid would never call him a fool.

And yet, why did he have such a clear memory of the thief doing that exact thing...?

Shaking his head, he plunged on. "Be as that may, Kid, I'm not going to let you go tonight. So why don't you be a good thief and turn yourself in? You'll be caught one day by me, so you might as well give in now. They might even take a year or two off your sentence for it."

The thief gave a low bow, smirk returning with Shinichi's banter. "I am sorry to say, Kudo-san, but I've never believed in giving in gracefully. I'm afraid I'll have to pass on your gracious offer. There are many big jewels yet in the world, and I simply don't have the time for prison yet, not until I've seen them all."

Shinichi gritted his teeth, stepping forward once more. "Then it's the hard way you choose. I should have expected nothing less of someone as stubborn as you."

A white-gloved hand waved idly, Kid not bothered in the slightest by Shinichi's growing proximity. "It's a character flaw, I'm afraid."

Really, how dare the thief just stand there as if Shinichi were not a threat? Clearly he took Shinichi for a bigger fool than the thief even called him--but wait Kid didn't call him anything--and Shinichi wasn't going to stand around and be insulted any longer. The thief needed that smug grin wiped off his face for him.

Stalking forward, Shinichi hissed. "Well, it's one too many, I'm afraid. And it is one that will land you shackled in jail where you belong, _voleur_!"

Kid actually did stop grinning then, giving a small start and staring at Shinichi with a confused expression under the top hat and monocle. "Excuse me, detective? Care to run that last word by me again? Are you sure you're all right, you're looking a little pale..."

Shinichi barely heard him, lost in a memory that was almost the same, and yet everything seemed just a little off. "_Arrêtez de dire ça!!_ Je vais _bien_, monsieur le cambrioleur, donc n'allez pas vous soucier pour moi. Je ne vais pas vous laisser me ridiculiser plus longtemps! Je suis celui qui finira par vous attraper un jour, et je vais m'assurer que ce jour sera aujourd'hui."

Had Shinichi been paying attention, he would have been treated to the rare sight of Kid looking completely flabbergasted. The thief's blue eyes had gone wide, and he was staring at Shinichi in a mixture of shock, confusion, and not a little worry. "Kudo? Um...Japanese, please? I really don't think you're doing very well..."

"J'ai dit que j'allais bien. Maintenant je vous prie de cesser de repousser l'inévitable, mon cher cambrioleur, et de gentiment me suivre. Ou je me verrai obligé de recourir à des moyens moins civilisés, Lu-"

_What...?_

Shinichi froze, clapping a hand over his mouth. Abruptly reality returned to Shinichi, and he suddenly wished it hadn't. Kid was staring at him, looking like he'd been hit over the head with a brick, and Shinichi couldn't blame him.

Why had he just gone off like that? He hadn't been seing Kid...or rather, he'd been seeing who he thought Kid _was_. And had nearly called him that name, the name that still threatened to slip from his lips, as even now Kid seemed to flicker and become someone else instead.

Someone who had died a century ago, one Shinichi shouldn't be seeing and yet still was...

This was too much. He shouldn't be doing this, slipping into languages he had no right knowing as well as he did, calling thieves by other thieves' names - surely they were a jealous bunch, right, so he really shouldn't be talking to Kid right now, not when all he could see was someone else - and he had no right seeing these visions.

Yes, visions, because there was no way Shinichi was running around with century-old memories in his head from dead detectives...

--_not quite a century not yet dear incarnation_--

And that was it, he was hearing voices. it was time to go home, burn that stupid journal, and curl up under his covers with a box of expensive chocolate and a flashlight.

"I-I'm really sorry about that...K-Kid, but I've got to go now. Like...right now. So um, if you'll excuse me..." Shinichi began backing away from the thief, who had begun to approach Shinichi slowly, as if not to scare him off.

"Wait a minute, Kudo, are you sure you're really okay?"

God, and now he was apparently crazy enough to imagine the concern in the thief's voice. Really time to go.

"I'm fine!1 Really, Lu--" _God damn it, get his name right, it's not the same thief, stop going crazy Shinichi!!_ "..._Kid_. I...just really need to go home. I'll catch you tomorrow or something, okay? Just...not right now, not now."

Deciding to put his actions to words, Shinichi finally got his legs moving to steer him towards the stairwell, finally managed to turn and run for it once he was out of the thief's grabbing range. He darted into the safety of the building, closing the door and Kid's startled face and shout.

For a moment, he leaned back against the door, just trying to calm his mind.

This...was getting out of control. The bed thing was sounding more and more pleasant by the minute.

--_for the record it is not your fault I am sorry I just wanted to talk to him again_--

Yes, sleep until the voice went away. That was a very good plan.

Burying his face in his hands, Shinichi took a deep breath, before standing straight once again and heading down the stairs.

Maybe everything would be fine in the morning.

------  



	5. Chapter 5

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_C'est étonnant à quel vitesse on peut s'habituer à un pays après y avoir vécu quelques temps._

Ce n'est toujours pas ma belle France, mais je dois l'admettre, l'Angleterre a trouvé sa place. Je peux comprendre maintenant pourquoi il s'énervait tant quand je me moquais de sa patrie...

En parlant du loup, je ne l'ai toujours pas retrouvé. Cela devient inquiétant - surement il ne lui est rien arrivé? Il a bien trop de fierté pour se laisser mourir pour quiconque, assurément? Je ne dois tout simplement pas chercher aux bons endroits...

J'espère pouvoir le trouver rapidement. J'ai tant à lui demander... sans oublier, peut-être, qu'une fois la confrontation finie, je pourrais faire un tour de l'Angleterre avec lui et il pourra m'expliquer son pays. Je ne peux tout comprendre sans un natif à mes côtés. Il y a plein de choses qui me font souhaiter qu'il soit là, ce qu'il en penserait...

Des fois, je me demande... peut-être devrai-je lui demander cela comme paiement. Tout m'expliquer... ses opinions incluses. Je trouve que cela m'interesse.

Et pourtant, je dois d'abord le retrouver.

Peut-être qu'à la prochaine ville, il y sera. Oui, il me suffit de continuer...

Il se trouvera à la fin de mon voyage, eventuellement.

------

It was really all there.

Shinichi shut the textbook with a sigh, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He, of course, knew all there was to know about Sherlock Holmes, but some of these events hadn't been described in books about the detective, only in history books around the era. And so, knowing about Holmes didn't necessarily lead to knowing about the things Shinichi had recently dreamed up.

And yet, here they were, clear as day in print, and no way Shinichi could have known of them beforehand. After all, it wasn't like he studied English or French history very much...and yet, he was still seeing things from the era through the detective's eyes.

As if he was living Sherlock's life, reliving memories through dreams...

He shook his head. No, that was silly. Things like that just didn't happen. He...was just a little stressed lately, that was all. He just needed a break, otherwise he'd go crazy.

--_you're not crazy for this it's only logical after all_--

Definitely needed a break, so the voice that he had started hearing that night he had freaked out on Kid would _go away_.

Shoving the textbook away, Shinichi glared at it, before turning his attention towards the next book he had grabbed to flip through. To be honest, he wasn't sure why he was so determined to see if the things he dreamed actually happened - some form of masochism, perhaps? - but as he'd already started, he might as well finish.

He pulled the book towards himself, looking at it dubiously. This one had been tucked into a back corner, for it was entirely in French - apparently the university had felt having a book about French history in the actual language itself would be important, and so it had been on the shelves, never used until Shinichi had gone on a mad sweep, grabbing every book he could find.

He didn't have his dictionary on him, though, and his French wasn't so good without it...perhaps he should come back for this book later when he was more prepared? Should he just grab one of the library's dictionaries? Should he just forget this and go home to have a nice breakdown?

As he was deciding on his next course of action, someone passing by bumped into his table, shaking it and Shinichi out of his thoughts. He looked up automatically, blinking in slight confusion as the other - a male student around Shinichi's age with messy hair and eyes as bright blue as Shinichi's own - stared at Shinichi in what appeared to be close to horror.

Then the other teen blinked, shook himself a little, and grinned brightly at Shinichi. "Sorry about that, wasn't watching where I was going!"

Shaking his head, Shinichi smiled back. "It's fine, no harm done." Assuming that was the end of the matter, Shinichi went back to glaring at the French book. Maybe he could read enough of it to understand...

"Can you read that?" The other studen't voice piped up, startling Shinichi a bit. When the detective looked at him in confusion, he gestured towards the book. 'The French, I mean...can you read it?"

"Well...I studied it in high school, so maybe..." Shinichi started slowly, finally opening the book, and felt his mouth go dry when he scanned the first page and the meanings of the words came effortlessly. "Apparently, more of it sank in than I thought, so yes."

One simply didn't become fluent in French overnight. This was insane.

"Well, um..." Once again, Shinichi found himself brought out of his thoughts by the teen standing across the table. "If you can read French, could you help me? I'm trying to decipher a few sentences, but I haven't studied the language at all, so..."

With another slight shake of his head, Shinichi smiled up at him. A distraction, yes, that was what he needed to get his mind out of this strange insanity it was falling into. "Sure, no problem, what did you need translated?"

The other handed over a small sheet of paper, scribbled writing all over the surface. "Here. Sorry if the spelling or anything is off, I only heard it..."

Grabbing his pen, Shinichi bent over the paper, instantly starting on translating the lines in French. "It's okay, you did really good..."

"Oh, okay, that's good then..."

Silence reigned for a moment, as the other teen shifted nervously, and Shinichi continued scribbling out words and meanings, shaking his head every once in a while and muttering under his breath.

Finally, Shinichi scrawled out the last word, and handed back the paper with a smile. "Here you go, it's just some lines out of a thief movie, or something."

"Thanks!" With a smile, the other took the paper, but the smile soon faded as he frowned slightly at the paper. "Well, um, my English is a bit rusty, but I think I get the majority of it."

"English? I wrote it in English?" Shinichi asked blankly, before feeling a blush rushing to his cheeks. "Damn it, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...it's just been a long week."

The boy finally sat down, pulling out a chair and smiling again at Shinichi. "No worries, we all have weeks like that. And I'm okay with English, I'm just a little rusty, is all. It's fine. By the way, I never did tell you my name, did I? I'm Kuroba Kaito, it's nice to meet you!"

"Kudo Shinichi, same." He shook the other's hand, which had a surprisingly strong grip, with a smile. "You're attending this university too, right? What subjects?"

"Nothing special, just theater to give myself some sort of degree. There isn't a major for stage magic yet, after all." Kaito's grin turned impish, and for a second it wasn't Kaito sitting across from Shinichi, but a thief with the same grin and bright blue eyes...

--_it's him I know it he has to be_--

Giving himself a slight shake, Shinichi managed to keep his smile. "Stage magic, huh? That's pretty neat. I can never do more than simple card tricks and such, my hands start fumbling all over the place..."

"Just takes a lot of practice!" Came the cheerful reply, and Kaito checked his watch. "Anyways, it's almost lunch time...want to grab something with me? I'll pay, to apologize for interrupting you..."

"It wasn't really an interruption, I was glad for the distraction." Shinichi replied, standing up and picking up an armload of books. "And lunch sounds great, just let me put these away."

"I'll help!" Kaito stood up himself, grabbing the rest of the books. "All in the Foreign History section, right?"

"Right."

"Great, then I'll go put these up and we can leave for lunch...I know a great sandwich place that just opened around here, does that sound okay?" The cheerful babble was dulled slightly as Kaito disappeared between the bookshelves.

"That sounds fine." Shinichi managed, before frowning thoughtfully at the place where the other had disappeared, before transferring his gaze to the books.

Why had he seen that flash when Kaito had smiled? And why, for the life of him, could he not figure if it had been Kid or...someone else, from long ago? Why had the voice said that?

Well, maybe if he spent some time with the bright teen, he'd find out why.

With a sigh, Shinichi turned and headed for the shelves himself.

--_and if I told him all I wanted to say is "I'm sorry" how would he take that I wonder_--

Yes, an answer would be nice.

For both his and the voice's questions.

------  



End file.
